


Here Now

by catpawz



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Dirty Talk, Finger Sucking, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Size Kink, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:01:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpawz/pseuds/catpawz
Summary: Nines thinks his relationship with Connor is absolutely perfect. He's madly in love with him, they make each other so happy, and the sex is fantastic.So when Markus steps in, clearly trying to sabatouge it all, Nines can hardly resist lashing out. He has to prove to Markus that he means business, but Connor doesn't much appriciate Nines being "rude" to his friend.So Nines must choose, stop Markus or avoid upsetting Connor? Surely there's no way for this to have a happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY SPOILER ALERT: There's a happy ending >:)

“Really, it’s not a big deal,” Markus is saying, and Connor is internally screaming in frustration. He somehow manages to keep his voice level, but only barely.

“Markus you were almost _assassinated_ ,” he huffs, hands curling into fists on his lap under the desk, where Markus hopefully can't see them.

“By the group you and the Lieutenant are hunting down.”

“Yes! They’re a vicious anti-android hate group, and they’ve killed before!”

“I know, I know,” Markus nods solemnly, and Connor feels a little bad for being so blunt. He knows the androids that were killed meant a great deal to Markus, every android does, but that should only mean Markus is all the more aware of what’s at stake here.

“But if you and the Lieutenant are on the case, then I have no doubt it will be wrapped up quickly,” he smiles, and Connor realizes then he’s trying to negotiate with the man who won rights for androids from a world who hated the idea more than anything.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to lose, though.

“Compliments will get you nowhere,” Connor says, but he’s smiling too.

“Damn,” Markus sighs, voice light, “I suppose all the compliments I prepared will be for naught, then.”

“Not entirely,” Connor teases back.

“What is there to gain from complimenting you, if not freedom from your plans?”

“You’re making me feel better about myself.”

Markus laughs at that, “As if you need any bigger of a head!”

“I don’t need your sass either, but look where we are.”

They’ve both dissolved into a fit of giggles that only ends when Connor feels a large, looming presence behind him. He turns, expecting the captain or some hungover cop still recovering from the weekend (not Hank, Connor had been very careful to ensure he only had one bottle of light beer last night specifically to ensure there were no hangovers this morning) to be there, ready to snap at the two androids for being too noisy or unprofessional, but instead he finds—

“Nines!” Connor smiles up at him, but Nines has a deadly serious look on his face, one Connor has only seen in the interrogation room, being aimed at the worst Detroit had to offer. But now it’s being aimed… at Markus? That doesn’t make any sense,

Nines rests his hand on the back of Connor’s neck, making him shiver. The touch is light but it feels so heavy, and Nines is still not looking at him.

“Have… you met Markus?” Nines had not been part of the revolution, his deviancy coming about a few weeks after the fact when he was found abandoned in a CyberLife factory. He might not know how important Markus is to Connor and himself and androids everywhere, might think he’s a human who’s involved with the anti-android group. That would explain the deadly stare.

“Nines? I’ve heard a great deal about you. As Connor said, I’m Markus,” Makus extends his arm for a handshake. Nines glares at it like he’s trying to cut it off with his stare alone.

“...pleasure,” he says eventually, and the hand on Connor’s neck squeezes. Connor does his best to not show how the hold is affecting him, but Nines is not nearly being so careful about hiding his emotions. His voice is dripping with everything _but_ pleasure.

“Why are you here?” Nines asks, but it almost sounds like a demand.

“Ah, there was a—“ Markus drops his arm and clears his throat awkwardly, “an incident, at my last speech.”

“‘An _incident_ ,’” Connor rolls his eyes. “Markus was shot at. We’re lucky the shooter was incompetent, he missed and we managed to catch him, but during the interrogation he implied that the group wouldn’t be giving up so easily. We believe they’ll be trying similar things in the future, so I’ve decided to assign Markus a bodyguard.”

Connor sighs, “I swear, the both of you are going to kill me. Markus and his ‘ _i_ _ncidents_ ’ and Nines and his insistence that he could fix a _stab wound_ —”

“Is that all?” Nines’ harsh voice cuts him off before Connor could tell Markus the story. “Wonderful. Connor will assign you a bodyguard and you can be on your way.”

“Oh, absolutely not!” Connor shakes his head, and Nines gives him a _look_ , not as hateful as the one he had been sending Markus’s way but equally as intense. “This is a personal matter, I will be seeing to your well-being myself, Markus.”

“Oh, no! I insist, you have much more importa—”

“He _insists_ , Connor,” Nines cuts Markus off then, and Connor then notices his LED is flickering between yellow and red. What was the problem? Connor could think of none better than himself to guard Markus.

“I don’t want to give this task to a human,” he explains. “They require sleep and breaks, and I want to ensure you’re guarded at all times. All the other androids on the force are fresh out of the academy, I don’t trust them to handle this either.”

“Hmm,” Markus hums, and then relents with a shrug. “I suppose that makes sense. Thank you for your concern, Connor. The way I see it, this just means we’ll be seeing each other more ofte—”

“Connor.” Nines cuts Markus off again, and when Connor turns to look at him, he sees he's back to glaring at Markus. “I need to have a word with you. In the evidence room.”

“Do you,” Connor cocks an eyebrow, well aware that whatever “word” Nines had for him will likely be very unprofessional. He shakes his head and turns back to Markus, “very well. Markus, I’ll file some paperwork and have myself assigned to you until the DPD believes the threat has been neutralized.”

“Thank you, Connor,” Markus says, talking to him but eyeing Nines warily. With that settled, Connor stands, gives a “goodbye” to Markus, and follows Nines to the evidence room.

He can barely keep up with Nines’ long strides, not without half-running behind him awkwardly. His brows are furrowed as he tries to figure out what, exactly, Nines plans to discuss with him. It must be something serious, if Nines was trying to wrap up the conversation with Markus so quickly. And speaking of Markus, why was he looking at him so _furiously_? Like Markus hadn’t come in because he needed protection, but had been arrested for the grusome murders of seventeen people.

Nines opened the door to the evidence room for him, and Connor walked inside. He glanced around, but he knew Nines was not here to show him any evidence, and sure enough, nothing of note was visible within the room.

He turned to Nines, “what is the meaning behind al-ah!” Before Connor could finish his question, Nines has taken hold of him, spun the both of them around, and slammed Connor into the nearest wall. He doesn’t waste a second before grabbing tight to Connor’s thighs and wrapping his legs around his hips, and then Nines is grinding forward, rubbing their clothed cocks together. Connor gasps in both surprise and sudden arousal.

“Fuck,” he breathes, grabbing onto Nines’ shoulders for support, but he knows Nines won’t drop him. Nines is mouthing at his neck, but the sloppy kisses quickly turn into rough bites. Connor whines each time he feels Nines’ teeth pressing into his skin, occasionally breaking through.

“I-if all you wanted was sex,” Connor keens when Nines’ hands dig into his ass, “th-then you could have just _asked_ after Markus left.”

Nines doesn’t respond to that, too deep in whatever headspace he was in. He doesn’t stop until every exposed inch of Connor’s neck is covered in blue, thirium and bruises staining his skin. Only then does he break away, licking his lips as he takes in his handiwork. The once searing intensity in his eyes has cooled marginally, but Nines is still burning hot with something Connor can’t place.

“Slut,” he growls, and Connor bites his lip at that. Then Nines leans in and pushes a kiss to the corner of Connor’s mouth, oddly chaste and almost sweet considering how he was acting. “But you’re my slut, aren’t you?”

“N-Nines, what are you…?” Connor trails off when Nines rolls his hips forward again, unable to think hard on anything but how _good_ it feels to have Nines grind up into him.

“My slut,” Nines purrs, one hand running up Connor’s body to massage his nipple through his jacket and shirt. Muffled as the feeling is, Connor still groans, arches his back to beg for more. “My sweet boy.”

Nines takes hold of Connor’s belt then, grabbing onto the leather with two fingers. He gives it an experimental yank, and Connor realizes, moments before it has a chance to happen, that Nines plans to rip his clothes off of him.

“Nines, wait, wait!” Connor cries out, and Nines freezes, still as a statue. “Don’t rip my clothes!”

“We only have so much time. It'd be faster than undressing,” Nines comments, but he's gently placing Connor down. He watches Connor undress with fiery intensity, lips twitching with impatience as Connor toes off his shoes so he can remove his jeans.

Connor can’t help but tease a little. He still has no idea why Nines is acting like this, but he decides it’s not all bad, if he can see his LED pulse and spin with unmasked desire while Connor takes his time undoing his fly. He _could_ take off both his pants and boxers in one quick movement now, but of course he doesn’t. He slides the jeans off and kicks them unceremoniously to the side, before curling his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. He pulls them off even slower, turning to the side a little so Nines can see how the elastic stretches as he slides it down over his ass. The show has the desired effect on Nines, but perhaps it accomplishes Connor’s goal a bit _too_ well.

He’s barely dropped his boxers to the floor completely when Nines is back on him. He sticks his hands into the arm holes of Connor’s suit jacket and shucks it off, leaving Connor in nothing but his quickly wrinkling button-up. That seems to be enough for him, because he’s pushing Connor into the wall again.

“Nines, my shir- mphf!” Everything Connor would have said after that is swallowed up by Nines, who claims his lips in his own. Immediately Connor’s mouth is forced open and Nines is sliding his tongue inside, licking over his teeth and tongue and everywhere he could reach, leaving Connor unable to do much but whine into his mouth.

He hoists Connor’s legs up and over his hips once again, and takes hold of both his hands and moves them back to Nines’ shoulders. One he’s confident Connor is well-enough supported by his own grip (truthfully weaker than it could be, Connor is already so far gone, hips twitching in search of some sort of stimulation and entirely focused on how hot Nines’ tongue feels in his mouth) and the wall (what’s doing most of the work, because of the aforementioned reasons), Nines pulls his hands away from Connor. One reaches into his pocket, and Nines breaks the kiss in time for Connor to see what it is.

Connor snorts. It’s a small bottle of lubricant, clearly labelled and meant for sex. Nines had come well-prepared.

He’s about to tease Nines for this when Nines is surging forward once again, kissing Connor with a ferocity that makes it feel less like kissing and more like _claiming_. Connor doesn’t see Nines dribble the lube over his fingers, focused as he is on trying and mostly failing to kiss back, but he knows he must have, because Nines’ fingers are freezing cold and slippery when they brush against his hole.

And then two of them are slamming into him at once, and Connor yelps at the sudden stretch, managing to break the kiss when he slams his head back against the wall with a loud _thunk_. He can’t even get out a moan before Nines is jamming his tongue down Connor’s throat again, but the kiss doesn’t muffle the way he shivers and grinds down on the fingers roughly thrusting in and out of his ass. Nines curls them devilishly, grinding them hard against his prostate until Connor’s vision is going blurry.

He feels like he’s going to explode, like his body is a particularly complex knot and Nines is not taking his time to undo him, carefully pulling at his strands and working him apart piece by piece, but grabbing the first part he can fit his fingers into and _yanking_ with such a force, it’s left Connor reeling.

The fingers are being yanked from his body as roughly as they were pushed in, but before Connor’s body can even process the loss, Nines is lining his cock up with Connor’s stretched hole and ramming forward.

Connor’s body accepts him greedily, Connor himself bucking his hips and bouncing back down best he can so he can get _more_ , but even so, the process of Nines working the entirety of his cock in is slow going. It has to be, if Nines wants to avoid damaging Connor, and though Connor finds himself addicted already to the fast, rough pace Nines had set, he loves this slow drag. He loves the way Nines’ cock grinds down over his prostate as he fills Connor up with it, loves the intense feeling of being stretched, loves _Nines_.

“I love you,” he gasps as soon as Nines is breaking the messy kiss, and in response Nines groans, loudly, into his ear, and his hips stutter for a moment, twitching deeper into Connor, and Connor whines at the feeling now that his mouth is free.

“I love you, too,” Nines responds, and his voice sounds so husky, as if he had pitched it an entire octave lower when Connor wasn’t looking. Is his voice synthesizer damaged?

Before Connor can truly appreciate having his mouth free and the ability to talk and whine and _moan_ back, Nines is shoving three fingers into Connor’s mouth, thumb and pinkie fingers taking a solid hold of Connor’s jaw while the rest rub against his tongue, pressing it down and massaging it. An analysis of the lube Nines had been using, one that still lingers on his fingers, pops up, and Connor groans.

It isn’t dirty, per se, to have the fingers that were just in his ass now in his mouth. Connor isn’t human, and keeps himself absolutely spotless, inside and out. That doesn’t make it _feel_ less dirty, taboo, and to show Nines how much he loves it, he licks at Nines’ fingers, running his tongue up and between them, and sucks as loudly as he can.

Nines loves it, if the way his hips slam forward, filling Connor completely on his cock and leaving Connor breathless and moaning is any indication. Connor rolls his head back at the force, a little more careful to not slam it against the wall once again.

“ _My_ slut,” Nines is whispering into his ear, and Connor notices the way he emphasizes the word “my.” What was going through his head? If Connor could think a little more clearly, he’s sure he’d figure it out, but—

Nines starts thrusting at a brutal, deep pace, hardly giving Connor a chance to adjust to his girth. Connor’s processors are going haywire, overflowing with the effort to keep up with the sensations running through Connor’s body, not a single wire left to contemplate Nines’ motivation behind all this.

Every thrust is battering against Connor’s prostate, making him grunt and whine around Nines’ fingers. Already he felt close, each push forward of Nines' hips nudging him closer and closer to an edge until his toes were hanging over the cliff face, and Connor was threatening to topple forward any moment now. It was almost embarrassing but who could blame him? Nines was fucking him so hard, so perfectly, and each thrust was sending electrical impulses straight to his head, which felt fuzzy and staticy and was only growing worse as the moments ticked on.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, Connor?” It had to be a rhetorical question, because Nines was still keeping his fingers buried deep into Connor’s mouth, leaving Connor with no easy way to answer. And even if he could (and, he supposed, there was always the messaging system, but Connor much preferred pretending he couldn’t), Connor was so far gone, beyond words at this point. But Nines’ deep voice and possessive words sent Connor spiraling up into some sort of headspace he couldn’t define but loved all the same. Another nudge closer to the edge. In lieu of responding verbally, Connor nodded wildly and squeezed his hands tighter into Nines’ still clothed shoulders.

“That’s right,” Nines said, and then he pressed a shockingly chaste kiss to Connor’s jaw before slamming forward once more, the force of the thrust pushing Connor up the wall and fucking a muffled cry out from him. Immediately he was fucking into Connor again, not with the long, hard thrusts of before, but with quick shallow ones, pulling out mere inches at a time before diving back in.

The sounds of wet slapping, skin against skin, filled the air, roaring in Connor’s eardrums and drowning out Nines, who was still gifting him words dripping with honey. Connor caught every other few, but even then he could barely process them. “My slut,” “my Connor,” “my perfect boy,” even dazed as he was Connor was noticing a pattern, but why?

Nines’ fingers were sliding out of Connor’s mouth, a strand of thick saliva connecting them still to the tip of his tongue, and now Connor was once again free to make noise. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t fathom what he’d say, nor could he bring himself to make any sort of noise besides the high-pitched, staticy cries that stuttered out from his lips in time with Nines’ thrusts.

His gut was filling with warmth, thirium pump pounding in his chest and causing blue blood to roar in his ears, vision going foggy. He was about to explode with it all, hips bucking wildly as he began to tip forward over the cliff.

And then he was crying out, but not with the pleasure of his orgasm. Nines had taken a firm hold of the base of his cock, preventing it entirely. Connor whined and cried and begged with his eyes, thrashing frantically as he tried to fuck into Nines’ fist, but there's a hand on Connor’s hip holding him still, preventing him from getting himself off.

“Say it,” Nines demands. “Say you’re mine. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you come.” Nines’ brutal pace had not slowed down, but his smooth voice would almost lead Connor to believe he’s doing nothing of any interest, if it weren’t for the deep pitch.

Connor can’t even think to question Nines’ demands, doesn’t hesitate before crying out, “Yours! I’m yours, Nines!” He’s so, so desperate to come, to release the heat threatening to melt him from the inside out.

“Good boy,” Nines praises, and as soon as he moves his hand away Connor is coming, voice breaking and glitching as he screams out his pleasure. The heat he’s released is quickly replaced by Nines’ cum. He doesn’t stop fucking into Connor throughout his orgasm, through his pace is stuttering and irregular. It only serves to make Connor feel hotter, elongating his own orgasm until he’s shaking with it, so oversensitive that Nines’ cock feels like it’s scorching hot inside his body.

Connor is half-worried Nines will keep fucking him, that their orgasms and refractory periods won't stop him, though he can’t truly find it in himself to be _worried_ as much as he is _hopeful_ , but Nines’ hips eventually stutter to a stop, and Nines is panting heavily against him, head rested on Connor’s shoulder. Connor lolls his own head to the side, resting it on top of Nines’.

“I love you,” Nines’ voice is caressing him now, still glitching but almost back to normal.

“Love you,” Connor returns, own voice barely above a mumbled whisper. Carefully, Nines untangles them, pulling out with a wet pop that makes Connor flinch. He feels Nines’ hot semen spill out of his body and slide down the insides of his thighs, and then Nines is carrying Connor bridal style to the large screen in the center of the room. Once Connor’s back is rested against it, he spreads Connor’s legs and presses something cool and soothing against his heated artificial skin. Connor realizes soon enough that it’s a wet wipe, and that Nines is cleaning him.

“Do you just carry a pack of those in your jacket?” Connor asks, amused. Nines really _was_ prepared.

“In our line of work, it’s handy to have something to clean yourself off with, in the event of accidents.”

“And the lube?”

“In _my personal experience_ , it’s handy to have something like that on hand for when you’re acting absolutely wanton,” Nines teases, and Connor notices his LED is still blinking yellow. It’s calmed down considerably, but something is still bothering Nines.

“...Nines, are you alright?” Connor asks, watching Nines’ LED because he has a feeling that will tell him more than Nines himself will. Unfortunately, it does not shift from it’s blinking yellow state.

“Fine,” Nines responds, and his voice is a bit more curt than normal. “Did something lead you to think otherwise?”

“You were being awful rude to Markus is all,” Connor says. “And awful… possessive.”

“Did you mind?”

“Mind what, the rudeness or the possessiveness?”

“The possessiveness.”

“No,” Connor says quickly, and he really didn’t. It was… incredibly hot, actually, and Connor was still coming down from the high it gave him. “But we can talk about that later. You should go apologize to Markus for your behavior.”

Nines hums at that, and already Connor can tell he has no intention of doing so. Connor huffs and pushes himself up so he’s sitting straight on the screen. He opens his mouth to tell Nines that Markus had been working far too hard to deserve such treatment at the hands of one of the people he freed, but before he has a chance to do so—

“You’ve soiled your shirt,” Nines notes, eyes dragging down it.

“Now is not the time to change the topi…” Connor looks down and trails off when he realizes Nines is right. “Shit.”

“Do you not have a spare?”

“No,” Connor sighs. He really should, the amount of times he’s stained shirts with blood, either his own or a victim's, is uncountable at this point.

“That’s okay,” Nines says, and Connor looks up only to find Nines grinning, like he finds the situation funny. “You can borrow one of mine.”

“It won’t fit right,” Connor says solemnly. “You’re bigger than I am.”

“You don’t have to. But your other option is to walk out like this.” Nines is grinning wider now. Connor supposes that he, too, will find this funny, in a few hours. Right now, however, he’s horribly embarrassed.

“If only I was given a chance to undress,” he laments sarcastically.

“If only you let me undress you,” comes Nines’ teasing reply.

“You were going to rip my clothes off!”

“Hm,” Nines shrugs. “I suppose that’s fair. You win.”

He places a quick kiss to Connor’s cheek, then stands up straight, putting himself together, “Do you want to borrow a shirt?”

“It’s not like I have many other options. Thank you, Nines.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with that, Nines is leaving the evidence room. Connor slides off the screen and removes his stained shirt, and then goes to gather the rest of his tossed aside clothes and begins redressing himself as much as he can. His thirium pump feels light, but he’s still concerned about Nines and his attitude towards Markus. What was the cause of all that?

He supposes he’ll have to ask later, he decides, buttoning his jeans back up. Before he leaves with Markus, he’ll make a point of talking with Nines about the whole thing.

* * *

Nines hurries down the hall and towards the lockers, the image of Connor absolutely _swimming_ in his shirt the only thing on his mind. The thought alone makes him feel dizzy with heat and desire, so much so he’s certain his refractory period process will cancel on its own and that he’ll be completely unable to prevent himself from bending Connor over the screen Nines had left him sitting on and claiming him again.

He’s almost entirely forgotten the reason for his original bad mood when—

“Nines!” Markus’s gentle voice calls out to him, and he can _feel_ his LED flashing red.

Nines very much dislikes Markus, he’s already decided that. He dislikes his convincing voice and the way he teased Connor with it, dislikes his mismatched eyes and the way they ran up Connor’s body as the two of them talked… He’s jealous, he knows that much. Connor is _his_ boyfriend (and the thought makes Nines giddy, but not enough to lessen his anger), and Markus has no right giving him those fucking _goo goo eyes_.

“Is Connor still in the evidence room? I don’t mean to rush on the paperwork but I have an event planned for tonight and I—”

“He is,” Nines says, and he has half a mind to tell Markus to go look for himself, so he can see Connor still drunk on the pleasure _Nines_ gave him. But he knows that won’t go as he fantasizes it will, so instead he says, “I’m fetching something for him and he’ll be right out.”

“Perfect,” Markus gives him an uneasy smile, and Nines hates that too. Not the uneasy part, a large, albeit shameful part of him is happy to see how uncomfortable he makes Markus, but the smile itself. It’s perfect, radiant, so unlike Nines’ own clumsy one, too much lips or too much teeth. It’s exactly like Connor’s smile, and Nines pushes the thought of how beautiful they’d look smiling together out of his mind before it’s fully formed.

Nines does not respond, simply walks past Markus, moving just a bit to the side so he can intentionally ram his shoulder into Markus, and continues his march to the locker room.

Connor is _his_. He said as much himself, and Nines knows he’s thinking irrationally, _acting_ irrationally (did he really have to run into Markus like that? Yes.), but he can’t quite help himself. Connor means the world to him, _is_ the world to him. Connor is his boyfriend (and this time, he’s far enough away from Markus and the source of his jealousy that the thought makes him smile a small bit), the one who showed Nines just how human he could be, who taught him how to love and be loved in return.

But what did Nines give to Connor? What was he compared to Markus, the android who won freedom for them all, who was brave and kind, who was beloved by androids everywhere and even by a large sum of humans? Nines was a machine designed to hunt and capture, dead or alive. He couldn’t inspire thousands, wouldn’t be written about in history books—

Nines was jarred out of his own thoughts when he walked straight into his locker with a loud _clang_. He stumbled back, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, and was relieved to find, after a quick glance around, no one had seen that. He tried to focus not on how much bigger Markus was than him, but instead how utterly cute Connor was going to look in his shirt.

* * *

“And that’s the last of it,” Connor announces, tapping at a few more keys on his computer before turning back to Markus. Markus smiles at him, but something about Connor seems off. Markus is certainly no detective, not like the people he’s surrounded by, but he doesn’t need to be to see that Connor has… changed clothes?

Yes, that’s exactly it, Markus realizes. Connor was wearing a clean, well-pressed button-up before he had left with Nines into the evidence room, but now he is wearing a plain black t-shirt, and it noticeably hangs off his body. Markus had seen Connor in casual clothing a few times before, but even then Connor was very careful about his appearance. It isn’t like him to be wearing a shirt that seems to be a few sizes too big.

Not that it bothers Markus. If Connor has recently decided to wear more casual clothing, that’s entirely up to him. In fact, Markus has to say, he… appreciates it. It’s a good look on him, and Connor’s admittedly cute appearance is nearly enough to entirely distract Markus from the burning question: Why did he have to change after going to the evidence room?

“Markus? Is something wrong?” Connor’s voice hits him again, and Markus jerks up. He hadn’t realized he had been staring, very intently, at Connor’s chest.

“Nothing! I just,” he pauses, contemplating lying but then opting for a half-truth, “I feel bad, inconveniencing you like this. Are you sure it isn’t a problem for you to step away from your duties?”

“These _are_ my duties,” Connor reassures him. “Nothing is more important to me than your safety, Markus.”

Markus’s chest feels warm at his words, and his smile grows brighter. He turns to Hank, who is sitting across from them both, typing away at his own computer.

“And the Lieutenant has no issues with this?"

“Nah, nah,” Hank waves his hand dismissively. “Take away my partner, see if I care. This just means nothin’s gonna stop me from getting some _actual_ alcohol in me.”

“Light beer _is_ actual alcohol, Hank,” Connor says. “An unfortunately for you, I’ll be reminding Nines of your diet as soon as I have the chance to speak with him.”

Hank frowns at that, though there are sparks of amusement in his eyes as he does so, “Damn. Guess I’ll have to solve this whole thing quickly then.”

Markus doesn't quite understand why Hank would be at all amused by anything concerning Nines. He is… scary, and that’s putting it lightly. Markus has met a great many people in his time as an android ambassador, and even the most vicious of politicians, the ones who spit in his face and threaten violence, don’t frighten him as much as Nines and his cold, unnaturally smooth demeanor.

And Markus feels bad for thinking of Nines as scary, but he can hardly help it. The constant glares that make Markus feel like he’s being accused of crimes he’s never commited, the harsh way Nines talks to him… It’s clear Nines dislikes Markus, but Markus tries not to take it so personally. From what he knows about Nines, he was meant to be a ruthless hunter of criminals, and though he’s deviant now, androids can only step so far away from their original programming. Nines probably dislikes everyone.

“Besides,” Connor turns back to Markus, “I’ll be able to work on the case while I’m with you, at least I can view reports and help Hank come to conclusions about possible members and future crimes.”

“Wonderful,” Markus nods, and then stands, stretching out his old and long-ago damaged leg as he does so, the one he had taken from the android dumping grounds. It’s been repaired so many times now, wires resoldered and joints oiled, Markus wonders sometimes if he should just replace the whole thing, but he feels like replacing it would be replacing his very past.

Connor and him head towards the entrance of the building after Connor wishes Hank, a few detectives, and officers well. They don’t run into Nines as Connor says his good-byes, and Markus is, shamefully, relieved, but unfortunately the relief doesn’t last long.

“Connor,” Nines is standing right before the exit, hands folded behind his back and the picture of put-together and in-charge. “I was hoping I could talk to you before you left."

“Oh, of course!” Connor agrees, though Markus wishes he didn’t. “I wanted to tell you a few things as well.”

“How perfect is it, then, that we ran into one another,” Nines grins then, and Markus is taken aback. He feels bad even thinking it, but he hadn’t realized Nines could smile. He had thought his default expression was pure hatred and that neutrality would be the closest he’d get to _smiling_.

His smile is nice, though. Very refreshing to see, considering Markus had been subject to nothing but glares.

“Could we talk… in private?” Nines glances over at Markus, smile faltering slightly at the sight of him. Markus is starting to wonder if he _should_ take all the glares and angry words personally.

“Yes, that might be ideal,” Connor nods. “Would you mind, Markus?”

“Not at all!” Markus shakes his head, hoping the conversation doesn’t last too long. He’s still very much pressed for time.

“Thank you,” Connor says, and the two of them slip into a nearby waiting room around the corner. Markus can hear them talking from where he stands by the entrance, but he can’t quite make out the words. He’s sure if he strained himself he could, but he respects Connor’s privacy.

…

Was Nines wearing the same shirt as Connor?

…

Not that it’d mean anything. It _was_ just a plain black tee, surely each detective here owned one. Nothing strange about Connor and Nines wearing the same shirt.

…

Except for the fact that Connor had only changed into the shirt after being alone with Nines.

* * *

“I’m glad I’m able to steal a moment alone with you,” Connor smiles, leaning in closer to Nines.

“I’m going to miss you,” Nines admits, and he is. He’s going to miss Connor terribly, but the feeling is nearly overwhelmed with jealousy directed towards Markus. Nines wonders if he should talk to Connor about his feelings, he’d surely reassure Nines that he has no interest in Markus and eyes only for him, but Nines can’t bring himself to say anything.

“It’s not like I’ll be gone forever, or gone at all for that matter. I’ll be back to work here as soon as the threat dissipates enough, and you can message me at any time.”

“I won’t see you here at work every day, or at home every night,” Nines reaches up and takes a gentle hold of Connor’s shoulders. “No matter what you say, I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Connor leans forward a little further, and presses a soft kiss to Nines’ lips. A gentle warmth fills Nines’ body as Connor’s lips touch his own. The kiss ends too quickly for Nines’ tastes, and Connor is talking again.

“I trust you’ll ensure Hank sticks to his diet? And that Sumo gets all the exercise he needs? Please be careful of letting him chasing any animals.” Nines does not know the ins and outs of Hank’s and Sumo’s needs, not like Connor does, but he’s nodding anyway.

“Thank you, Nines,” Connor’s smile falters then, and the words Nines had been fearing he’d hear come out. “Now, I was hoping we could talk about your behavior earlier.”

“What do you mean?” Maybe playing dumb will get him out of this, but Nines knows Connor is far too smart for that. And sure enough, Connor looks at him as if Nines was just joking.

“I _mean_ the way you acted around Markus. He’s a very good person, Nines, and he already deals with so much. You have no reason to be treating him with such disrespect…”

Nines is trying to listen to Connor’s scolding, he really is, but he hardly feels like he’s to blame for acting so rudely when Markus was the one _flirting_ with Connor. If anything, Nines had free reign to act even more rudely. And so, Connor’s words fall on deaf ears, but Nines keeps up the ruse that he’s listening best he can.

That is, until something else catches his attention. His eyes flick up and he sees who else but Markus, glancing around as if looking for something. He’s looking for them, apparently, because as soon as his eyes land on Connor’s back they light up and he’s taking purposeful strides into the waiting room.

Nines makes a split second decision. He knows it’s a bad one, but he can’t stop himself.

He takes hold of Connor’s shoulders, ignoring his startled “hey!,” and slams their lips together.

* * *

Markus gives the clock another worried glance. Nines and Connor can’t talk for much longer, can they? It’s only been a few minutes, but at this point, every second counts. The last thing Markus needs is the media getting on him for being late to his own event, even if it was because he had just recently been attacked.

He lightly taps his foot for a few moments then looks at the clock again. He can still hear them talking, still can’t make out a single word but he can tell it’s Connor’s voice. Technically Nines and his voices are the same, but Connor’s voice is filled with so much more emotion compared to Nines’ more… flat tone, to put it nicely.

He feels awful for doing it, but Markus knows he needs to hurry their conversation on a little bit. Surely they’d both understand. Or,  _Connor_ would understand, and  _Nines_ would probably glare at him like Markus was threatening them at gunpoint.

Markus tries to look less rushed than he actually is as he wanders down the hall, idly glancing about at the holographic pictures shimmering on the wall. Eventually he rounds the corner Nines and Connor had disappeared behind, and sure enough, there they are, in the middle of the empty waiting room. They’re still in the middle of a conversation but Markus simply cannot wait any longer, so he starts making his way closer to them, mouth opening in greeting when—

Nines has taken hold of Connor, and has pulled him in for a kiss.

Every wire in Markus’s body short-circuits at the sight. Is…? Are Nines and Connor…? They can’t be, but Connor is melting into Nines’ arms after a moment, arms snaking up his chest to wrap around his neck and hug him a little closer, so clearly whatever _this_ is isn’t one-sided.

Markus… feels a mix of emotions now. Embarrassment takes the lead, he hadn’t meant to walk in on such an intimate moment, and he swears Nines is looking at him so he can’t very well walk out and pretend nothing happened. He has such a _fire_ in his eyes too. He’s pissed, but of course he is. Markus is seeing something he clearly shouldn’t.

But beyond that is, perhaps, jealousy? Connor is beautiful, CyberLife’s best, and Markus would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to him. But clearly he isn’t as _on the market_ as Markus thought, and of course he’d respect that, but he can’t help the desire that simmers in his gut at the sight of him.

And yet, he can tell, the desire isn’t fueled by Connor’s pretty face alone. Connor and Nines together are absolutely beautiful, breathtaking, and Markus realizes he doesn’t want to take Nines’ place in the kiss as much as he wants to simply sit back and watch for hours. Even Nines looks less scary than Markus ever thought possible, eyes softening as he moves his hands to rub at Connor’s back. Markus’s eyes are drawn to the way Nines’ lips move against Connor’s and he realizes that, if he were told he could take either Connor’s place or Nines’, it wouldn’t be as easy of a decision as he originally thought.

The kiss ends, and Markus realizes only then that he had been holding his breath. His UI reports his internal temperature increased by three point two degrees.

“I love you,” he hears Nines saying, and Markus’s thirium pump skips a beat.

“I love you, too,” Connor replies. “But really Nines, you need to—”

“It looks like our good-bye will have to be cut short,” Nines interrupts him, eyes now firmly on Markus, and Markus freezes up.

Connor turns around, a look of confusion on his face, but it’s replaced by surprise when he sees Markus in the doorway, “Markus!”

“I-I haven’t been here for long!” Markus raises his hands defensively. “I didn’t hear anything important I just-...”

“You saw the kiss?” Nines finishes for him, and Markus swears he sounds a little smug, but that can’t be possible.

“No!” Markus shakes his head, then realizes what he had just said. “I-I mean yes! I did… see the kiss.” Did Nines just smile?

“I’ll, uhh…” Markus points his thumb back towards the entrance, “I’ll go… wait. Take all the time you need, I didn’t mean to… interrupt.”

“No, it’s fine!” Connor smiles in a way that makes Markus feel a little better. “We should be going anyway. Call me soon, Nines, and tell Hank to call soon as well. Send pictures of Sumo!” He presses a quick kiss to Nines’ cheek before walking out of the room past Markus, clearly expecting him to follow.

Markus doesn’t, not at first. He’s still frozen in place. Nines cocks an eyebrow at him and tilts his head back, literally looking down his nose at Markus.

“S-See you, Nines,” Markus stutters out, and he’s not expecting Nines to acknowledge his good-bye with a nod of his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nines: Hank this is so sad play Mr. Brightside  
> Hank: Wtf
> 
> ALSO THERE'S A SOMEWHAT IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END PLEASE READ IT!!! <3
> 
> ALSO someone asked me to mark which parts are more Nines/Markus-centric, and tho I couldn't find a good way to break it up, I'll tell you that the parts that focus on them starts with "Nines pulls one hand away " and ends with "He’s in love with Connor"!

The remainder of the day moves by slowly. It’s not a boring day by any stretch of the imagination, but Nines misses Connor terribly. He’s not even been gone a full twenty-four hours and Nines already thinks he's been gone too long.

In an effort to get Connor back with him and off guard-duty as soon as possible, Nines has assigned himself as Hank’s temporary partner. He’s already reviewed every case file concerning the rising anti-android group, the whole process took him fourteen point twenty-seven seconds, and he’s currently looking for any connections, anything that might lead him to a definitive way to tell what their next move will be.

But it doesn’t seem like there  _ is _ any pattern, unless the group is so organized they’ve managed to concoct one that escapes even Nines’ sophisticated software, which is unlikely. It’s more likely that the group is simply too disjointed to formulate any sort of plan. The only thing they seem to have going for them is that they’re bold, bold enough to try and take down the android leader when they clearly had no halfway decent idea of how to do it.

Although… Nines decides “bold” is too much of a compliment. They’re stupid, idiotic, and very much  _ dead _ for taking Nines’ Connor away from him.

Nines’ Connor.

_ Nines’ _ Connor.

Nines clicks his pen twice in frustration. Maybe Markus planned this, all in a desperate effort to take Connor away from him. 

Nines sighs, and runs his hand through his hair. No, no that kind of thinking will get him nowhere. Obviously Markus did not plan his own attempted assassination. Nines clicks his pen again. 

But what if he  _ did _ . Nines clicks his pen.

What if Markus did it all to garner Connor’s sympathy, meticulously planned out their conversation so that Connor himself would take over as his bodyguard?  _ Click. Click _ .

What if he’s showering Connor with all those pretty compliments now, leaving lingering touches on Connor’s hand?  _ Click click click click _ .

What if he’s running his hands up Connor’s chest, plucking apart the buttons as he goes, and then he’s leaning forward and-  _ clickclickclickclickclickclick. _

And pressing his lips to Connor’s, and Connor would whimper so beautifully against him-  _ Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick. _

“Nines!” Hank’s sharp voice breaks Nines out of his thinking, and Nines looks away from the report on his screen he had been going over.

“You trying to drive me crazy with that pen or something?” Hank asks, and Nines looks, almost sheepishly, at the pen in his hand.

“No, Lieutenant. I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep the clicking to a minimum.”

Hank gives him an investigative look, and Nines almost feels like he’s being scanned. He wonders what would come up if he were. Something unpleasant, he’s sure.

“Something’s bothering you,” Hank decides, and Nines resists the urge to roll his eyes. Hank, the Lieutenant who graduated top of his class from the academy, figured out what any four-year-old could.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Nines clicks his pen.

“Alright, if you want to sit and mope, that’s no skin off my back,” Hank shrugs, then turns back to his computer. 

“I do.” Nines looks back down to the paper on Connor’s desk, where Nines has situated himself.

_ Click, click. _

_ Click click click. _

“Nines, the  _ pen _ ,” Hank hisses, and Nines just drops the pen on the desk. He looks back up to Hank, who is giving him that scanning-esque look again.

“We’re going to talk about this now,” Hank says, and there’s no room for argument in his tone. 

Nines tries anyway, “I don’t  _ want _ to talk about it.”

“Life is filled with doing stuff you don’t want to do. It’s all part of growing up.”

“I’m not  _ growing up _ , I’m an android.”

“You’re growing emotionally,” Hank says with a shrug, and Nines supposes he’s right. “You were an emotionless robot before, but now you’ve got  _ feelings _ . You need to learn how to deal with them sometimes.”

“I was dealing with them perfectly fine,” Nines says, and he’s reaching for the pen again. Before he can pick it up from the desk, Hank is grabbing it out from under him.

“Driving me to insanity with this pen isn’t gonna help you,” Hank says, and Nines doesn't just suppose, he knows he’s right this time. “Tell me what’s bothering you and you can click it until you’ve drilled a hole in your thumb, how ‘bout that?”

It’s a tempting offer, but Nines is an android built and programmed to accomplish his mission no matter what. Right now, his mission is to keep his emotions bottled up, and he will most certainly not be swayed by the offer to have his pen back.

“I miss Connor.”

**[Mission Failed]**

“You miss Connor, huh?” Hank nods, and already Nines is starting to feel a little better. “I miss him too. But you can always give him a call. Why don’t you go and do that now?” 

Nines wants to. He’d love to hear Connor’s voice, but he knows hearing him alone won’t help.

“I-... there’s something else upsetting me,” Nines says, and he doesn’t know why he’s still talking. Hank seemed satisfied by him saying he missed Connor, Nines probably could have gotten his pen back by now. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m worried, about him and Markus.”

“What, you think they’re going to get attacked again?”

“I’m worried about them… flirting with one another.”

Hank stares at him silently for a moment, and Nines wonders if Hank hadn’t understood what he had meant.

“You do understand what ‘flirting’ is, yes L-”

“I know what flirting is!” Hank huffs, going a little red in the face. “What I  _ don’t _ understand is why you think they’re flirting.”

“You should have seen then, Hank!” Nines goes on, now visibly exasperated. “The  _ compliments _ and the  _ looks _ and what- what am I compared to Markus?”

“Hey, hey,” Hank leans forward, voice going quieter. “No need for that kinda talk.”

“But it’s true! Markus freed androids everywhere, and what have I done?”

“You mean  _ besides _ putting countless killers behind bars, busting drug trafficking rings-”

“For  _ Connor _ ! What have I done  _ for Connor _ ,” Nines is glad they’re mostly alone in the office. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this. “He was going to be deactivated if it weren’t for Markus turning him deviant and completely reforming CyberLife. Markus saved his life.”

Hank sighs, and Nines thinks he’s finally starting to understand the problem. Maybe Connor would deserve someone like Markus, someone who made as big of an impact on others lives as he did himself. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever actually have to say this to you,” Hank starts. “Never took you for the type to have issues with self-worth. It doesn’t matter if you go out and took a bullet for every fuckin’ android in Detroit, Connor doesn’t care about that kind of stuff! You make him happy, so much so I would’a slapped him if I were five months younger.”

The thought of making Connor happy makes Nines feel even better. He nods at Hank’s words.

“You know that, uh…” Hank points to his palm. “The hand thing you two do sometimes.”

“The information transfer, yes.”

“That what that is? Huh,” Hank nods, then continues. “First time you two did it, he didn’t stop talking about it for  _ days _ . And he went into intimate. Detail.” Hank puts extra emphasis on the part about the ‘intimate detail,’ and Nines has a feeling he knows what Hank is talking about. His lips quirk up into a small smile.

“And I swear he goes out of his way to refer to you as his  _ boyfriend _ . You ever seen The Emperor’s New Groove?”

There’s nothing in Nines’ database about it, so he shakes his head.

“Figured not. Well, uh, there’s this scene… about poison? Kuzco’s poison.” Hank is giving him a look, as if he’s hoping that jogged Nines’ memory. It hasn’t. While there are countless notes on poison in his database, Nines knows nothing about Kuzco’s poison specifically. Nines does and says nothing.

“Right. Well, it’s like-...” Hank pauses for a few moments, and then continues with a poorly pitched voice, clearly meant to be an imitation of Connor’s. “My boyfriend, the boyfriend for me, the boyfriend chosen specially to love me, my boyfriend.’  _ That’s _ how he talks about you.” 

Nines actually laughs at that, “really?”

“Yeah, but don’t just take my word for it,” Hank is smiling a bit now, too. “Call Connor tonight and tell him about how you’ve been feeling. He’ll give you better reassurance than I ever could.”

Nines nods, “I think I will.” And he actually means it this time. If talking to Hank has helped him feel this much better, surely talking to Connor will have an even greater desired effect.

“Good. Feeling better?”

“Yes, a bit. Thank you, Hank.”

“No problem.” He puts the pen back in Connor’s little pencil holder, which is kept around for decoration more than anything, considering how often Connor uses himself or the computer for any paperwork. Nines doesn’t feel a need to reach for it.

“Now,” Hank leans back in his chair and stretches his hands over his head. “It’s already twenty minutes past closing, what the hell are we still doing here? Let’s get home already.”

Nines doesn’t want to go home, every second he’s away from this case is another second Connor is on guard-duty, but Hank is human and unable to go all night like Nines is. Nines nods and stands, and then follows Hank out the door and towards the parking lot where his car, the only manual car Nines has seen during his entire activation period, awaits.

* * *

Androids don’t sleep. Some, like the intimate partner and children models, have modes that imitate sleep, but even then it’s not really  _ sleep _ .

Nines, advanced as he is, is no exception. But he wishes he could. Anything to make the morning come a little faster.

His internal clock tells him it’s currently 3:42 in the morning. He hasn’t done a single productive thing in the last hour and fifteen minutes. He’s already analyzed and re-analyzed every single report on the anti-android group, reorganized his and Connor’s shared room (given to them when Nines permanently moved in with Hank, which both he and Connor insisted they didn’t need, but Hank insisted they have. The room wasn’t being used for much beyond a little extra storage anyway, and Hank had said that it was “bad enough walking out and seeing one android sittin’ on the couch and staring at the wall when I gotta piss at fuck-early in the morning,” and that there was no way he’d handle two. Nines wouldn’t complain, the extra privacy was very nice), and had even done a small bit of cleaning around the living room, up until Sumo, who was trying very hard to sleep on the couch, gave an annoyed little  _ boof _ at all the commotion and padded off to his owner’s bedroom. Hank wouldn’t be happy, waking in a bed filled with dog hair, but some things couldn’t be avoided.

Nines would normally slip into sleep-mode around this time, a sort of stasis that would help pass the time much faster, but he can't. He won't be able to until the remainder of his urgent tasks are completed. He pulls up his UI to check his tasks, as if he's hoping that, magically, the last thing he has to do before going into stasis has disappeared.

**Urgent:**

**> Call Connor**

It hasn't. Of course it hasn't.

He hasn’t called Connor. He told himself he would, that he’d talk with his boyfriend about his feelings and get the validation he needed to put his mind at ease, but he hasn’t. He just can't bring himself to.

And so now, with nothing else to procrastinate with and unable to “sleep,” Nines is laying back on his and Connor’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. And, with nothing to do, there’s nothing stopping his mind from wandering.

Hank’s words earlier truly did help Nines feel better about Connor and Markus, but he can’t help but still worry about them together. He can’t stop just lying in bed and thinking about Connor. He wonders if Connor is thinking about him too. Or maybe-

_ The Markus in Nines’ mind slowly slides Connor’s shirt up, revealing his torso with all it’s smooth skin and ridges meant to appear as muscles. He slides it up further, until Connor’s chest is revealed. Markus leans forward and rolls a hot tongue over one of Connor’s nipples- _

Nines throws his arm over his eyes, as if blocking out his physical vision will stop his imagination as well. It won’t, but it helps in the moment. He needs to call Connor. He’d still be awake, he was so adamant about protecting Markus that Nines doubts he even thought to enter stasis for the night. 

_ “Let me protect you,” Connor says, eyes half-lidded as he saunters forward with all the beauty and grace CyberLife’s finest would have. He slips himself into Markus’s lap, slotting himself so perfectly against him it’s like they were made to be together like that. He leans forward, lips brushing against Markus’s- _

Nines groans. His arm has ceased to be useful, and so he tosses it to the side. He needs to call Connor. He  _ needs _ to. There’s no way to give the tasks in his UI a higher priority than “urgent,” but the “Call Connor” task would be bumped up a level if it could.

_ Connor, shirt now gone completely, crawls forward on all fours towards Markus, who sits back on his ankles and lazily strokes his cock. It’s not as big as Nines’, can’t be, Nines  _ did _ purchase the biggest size available, but it’s curved beautifully and still tantalizingly thick and Connor’s mouth is watering at the sight.  _

_ Markus sits up straight, one hand still on his cock while the other brushes against Connor’s cheek. He takes hold of the back of Connor’s head and guides him down, pressing the head of his dick to Connor’s lips. He pushes in slowly, and Nines can see in excruciating detail the way Connor’s lips stretch around him. _

And them something strange happens, and it’s seems like Nines has lost all control over his own imagination and his brain itself decides to take the reins.

_ The scene changes, and Nines no longer has a close-up view of Connor's lips, but is now looking at the scene from behind Connor, through his own eyes. Nines has managed to work himself into his fantasy. From where he sits, kneeling behind Connor in a similar position to Markus, he can see Connor's head bob up and down Markus's cock. Connor is suddenly completely naked, and Nines isn't sure when that happened, but he doesn't care, not when Connor's ass is raised so tantalizingly high in the air. Nines takes hold of Connor’s waist, which is so much smaller in his fantasy than it is in reality—he can almost feel the tips of his fingers touching.  _

_ He sees his hips move forward, and he’s grinding his cock against Connor’s ass. His hands slip down and he takes hold of the cheeks, digging his fingers perhaps a little too harshly into the soft muscle, because Connor groans. The beautiful noise is muffled by Markus’s cock. _

He pulls himself away from his fantasy for a moment, but only a moment. Why is Markus still there?

_ Nines slots his fat shaft between Connor’s asscheeks and squeeze them together around it, moaning at the sweet pressure. Connor’s skin is so soft against him, and he fucks against Connor just like that, ensuring the head of his cock catches against the puckered rim of Connor’s hole with every surge forward. Connor is shaking beneath his hands, the loud noises he’s making as he sucks on Markus’s cock only increasing in volume. _

_ “Don’t tease him, Nines,” comes Markus’s gentle voice, and Nines doesn't have a reason to argue. He wants to feel Connor’s body squeeze around him, wants to see what Connor looks like completely and utterly filled. _

“Fuck,” Nines curses under his breath. “Fuck, fuck.” He rolls himself out of the bed and hurriedly makes his way to the bathroom.

He’s not quite sure what he plans to find here. Maybe Nines, sub-consciously, thought a change in scenery would make this strange fantasy stop.

It’s not like he hasn’t fantasized about Connor like this before, in fact he has a very diverse subsection in his “Connor” folder dedicated entirely to favorite fantasies of his, but the addition of  _ Markus _ confuses him. Nines should despise Markus for this, should put an end to this fantasy as quickly as possible, should call Connor and get the confirmation he needs that Connor would never be interested in being pinned between the two of them—

_ Nines relents, moving his hands back up to take a more gentle hold of Connor’s waist once more. In his fantasy, Connor is already well stretched and ready, lubricant dripping from his hole. Nines can’t wait to see it dripping with his cum instead, and he realizes, with a aroused surge through his circuits, that Connor is going to be dripping from both ends by the time Nines and Markus are done with him. _

Nines groans, but he can’t tell if it’s out of annoyance or arousal. He reaches down and palms at the throbbing erection in his slacks (Hank has convinced Connor to not wear his work uniform around the house, but Nines is still a work-in-progress). When did he get hard?  _ Why _ is he hard?

Seeing Connor between him and Markus shouldn’t be arousing, Nines wants Connor all to himself, but he can’t keep from pulling his slacks down and wrapping his hand around the base of his newly freed erection. It twitches and Nines gasps, already so sensitive.

_ Nines pushes into Connor’s soft body, sliding in and bottoming out in one smooth motion. Connor is pushed forward with the force, further down onto Markus’s cock, and Markus sighs heavenly when his cock is entirely sheathed in Connor’s hot mouth. _

_ Slowly, Nines starts fucking into Connor, savoring the slow drag and drinking up the muffled whimpers Connor is rewarding him with. _

In time with his imaginary thrusts, Nines begins pumping his cock. It’s no substitute for Connor’s ass, but it’s all he has at the moment, and it works well enough. He leans back, supporting himself against the wall to ensure he doesn’t topple over, lost in his fantasy.

_ Connor’s body stretches so perfectly around him, and in no time at all Nines finds himself needing more. He fucks in harder, faster, ensuring he’s stimulating Connor’s prostate with every movement of his hips. _

_ Each time he pushes forward, Markus is pulling back, and together they manage to synch up and ensure that, no matter what, Connor always has a thick cock buried deep into his body. Connor is clearly grateful for the constant stimulation; if the loud moans aren’t indication enough, he’s taken to slurping loudly around Markus’s cock and doing what he can to bounce back against Nines hips. He can’t seem to pick between surging back to meet Nines or surging forward to take more of Markus down his throat, and it’s left him twitching with indecision, processors and UI demanding he do both at once while simultaneously giving him error messages warning him it’s impossible, that the tasks he’s desperately trying to assign himself contradict. _

_ He looks so gorgeous. _

Nines rolls his head back in reality, hips stuttering into his fist as he picks up the pace. He’s staring at nothing, eyes going glassy as his vision is almost entirely taken up by his fantasy.

_ Him and Markus are picking up the speed of their trusts now, barely giving Connor a chance to breathe before one of them is thrusting forward again, filling him best they can, and Nines doesn’t mean to brag but their best is clearly more than enough. Drool is sliding down Connor’s chin and tears down his cheeks as he’s flooded with sensations. _

_ Nines pulls one hand away from Connor’s waist, tightening his grip with the other to ensure each thrust is as punishing as possible. With his now free hand, he reaches forward and takes a gentle hold of the back of Markus’s head. His hair is so soft against his fingers, like peach-fuzz. There’s not enough of it for Nines to grab so he can pull Markus closer, but Markus does not need the prompting.  _

_ They’re leaning forward over Connor’s body, cocks moving deeper and thrusts shallowing as they do so, and pushing their mouths together. _

Nines groans again, lifting his other hand to cover his mouth. The last thing he needs is Hank hearing him and coming to see what all the commotion is. He tightens his grip on his cock as his fantasy and himself reach their respective peaks.

_ Markus’s lips are soft against him, but Nines barely has a chance to feel them before the kiss becomes entirely tongue. It’s filthy, and leaves a messy mix of both his own and Markus’s spit on his mouth, but he can’t find it in himself to care. All he can think about is how tight Connor is around him, how warm Markus’s mouth is against his own. _

_ And then his hips are stuttering forward and— _

Nines comes with a shout, fucking into his fist erratically and biting into his palm to muffle the noise best he can as hot cum splashes onto the tile floor below him. His entire body feels like it’s short-circuiting, but only for a moment. He can’t draw out the orgasm like he normally can when his body is being utterly spoiled by Connor’s.

The high ends far too quickly, leaving him with a singular image of Connor, after Markus and he had just pulled out of his body, cum pooling beneath him as it falls from his gaping mouth and ass. Nines saves the image immediately before it has a chance to fade away before his shame over what he has just done outweighs the arousal.

He-... Nines stares down at the mess he’s made and a new urgent task appears in his UI.

**Destroy the evidence.**

He sets to work immediately, grabbing the nearest towel he can reach, one that’s already dirty and sitting in a clump on the edge of the bathtub, and bending down to mop up the mess. Android semen doubles as a lubricant, which is wonderful when he manages to coax a second round out of himself and Connor, but less wonderful when the towel slides along the dirty floor uselessly. 

This is _ disgusting _ Nines decides, but he can’t bring himself to be that ashamed of it. The lingering images of his fantasy don’t made from his mind as he thought they would, leaving him with images of himself, Connor, and Markus all cuddled together in a warm pile, half-dozing. The arousal that once burned in Nines’ chest is not replaced by embarrassment, but a strange sense of contentment and understanding.

It’s not possible, however, that he wasn’t jealous with Markus but infatuated with him, is it?

He’s in love with Connor, there’s no doubt about it. Just the thought of him makes Nines weak in the knees. Nines would throw away his entire life as a detective before he even dared thought of leaving Connor for Markus. But his fantasy, unrealistic as it might have been, showed another possibility. 

…

The mess was finally mopped up, and Nines took the towel and threw it into the washing machine as soon as he deemed the floor clean enough that Hank wouldn’t suspect anything. 

…

_ Connor, love, are you there? _

Connor’s reply came blessedly quickly, and Nines relaxes at the sound of his voice running through his head.

_ Yes, I’m here, Nines. Is something the matter? _

_ I love you. _

_ I love you too—Nines are you okay? _

Nines took a deep breath. Connor couldn’t see it, of course.

_ There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I'm gonna snap and start writing those author's notes in the fic where I talk to the characters in the middle of the smut and all of ya'll are gonna have to deal >;3c
> 
> ALSO IMPORTANT NOTE TIME:  
> IDK where I wanna take this one tbh! ;w;/ I really like the idea of a Connor/Nines/Markus ending but I'm also a little hesitant to go that route? So I was thinking about just ending this with a one-time threesome bUT I ALSO REALLY LIKE CONNOR/NINES/MARKUS -w-"  
> I've made a poll here you can vote on if you have a strong enough opinion about it! ;w;/ Votes would be v much appriciated!!!  
> https://www.strawpoll.me/16292854
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAA I AM SO HYPE FOR THESE BOYS!!!
> 
> Oki so here is basically what is going to go down with this fic  
> I am going to make it polyamorous! Cuz I do what I want >:3  
> But! It is no longer a part of the Electrify My Mind series, and will in no way, shape, or form affect future fics of that series.  
> This is now it's own series with its own fics that will all be Markus/Connor/Nines!
> 
> If that is not your cup of tea, I wouldn't reccomend reading this ;w;  
> But if that IS your cup of tea then thank you for joining me!!!
> 
> Thank ya'll so much for understanding!!!

Connor and Markus managed to make it to the event—a charity event, with volunteers building houses for androids left homeless by the revolution—three minutes and twenty-six seconds early. It’s still too late for the media, who have already swarmed around the construction site, and who practically tackle Markus to the concrete as soon as he’s within range.

Markus has barely greeted them before they’re firing questions at him left and right: 

“Markus! We were expecting you here some time ago! What was the hold up?”

“What do you know about the man thought to be your almost-assassin? His family says he is a very bright kid.”

“What are your thoughts on the risk of decreased property value for the homes around this area?”

Very few of the questions are actually worth answering, the rest—the majority—are just gossip and attempts to get a rise out of him. Markus tries to answer all of them anyway, staying calm and keeping things orderly best he can, but it isn’t easy. Herding cats never is.

Connor helps a great deal, pushing the reporters aside in an attempt to get Markus to where he actually needs to be, telling them that he’ll be available for questions _after_ the allotted time for the house has passed, that he’ll be right as rain despite all the manual labor.

“Androids do not experience fatigue like humans do,” Connor explains, and the reporters seem to love that. They always love the little reminders that androids aren’t human. Markus isn’t quite sure how he feels about it.

“Markus!” Despite Connor’s best attempts, a particularly nimble reporter manages to push through when Connor is dealing with reporters elsewhere. His eyes are burning with a question Markus already has a bad feeling about.

“Is this your new boyfriend? What happened to North?”

But no matter how bad the feeling was, he couldn't have predicted  _that_.

Markus is sputtering in response, not sure where to even _begin_ with that question. He turns to Connor, who is currently caught up in explaining to the reporters the ins and outs of how human fatigue works. They aren’t listening, but Connor either doesn’t care or hasn't noticed. Whatever the case, he hasn’t heard the question.

Connor… as his boyfriend. Markus rolls the thought around in his head. It makes him feel a little dreamy. More than a little dreamy. But before he has a chance to slip into any sort of daydream, a microphone is being pushed further into Markus’s face, jolting him from his thoughts.

“I- uh-... No, no this is Connor, he is my bodyguard. He... already... has a boyfriend.”

Connor must have failed his mission, must have missed the assassin sent to kill Markus, because the weight that hits his chest can only be a dozen or so bullets from an automatic weapon mere inches away. Connor has a boyfriend. Connor already has a boyfriend.

“Oh! But look at that passion in your eyes! Are you jealous?”

He should be, Markus thinks. The crush on Connor he's been nursing for months now, ever since he met him back on the ship, the moment he saw Connor embrace deviancy because of his words... It was just a schoolyard crush, really. When it first started blooming, Markus had North, and Connor was just another cute android.

But then the relationship with North ended, and Connor became so much more of a viable option, someone Markus could—and did, occasionally—imagine with him sitting back in his hotel room after a long day of talking to the press, a warm body to come home to and to find comfort in.

But Connor had _Nines_ , and—

An image of Connor and Nines kissing in the waiting room, in perfect photographic detail, flits through Markus’s mind, and the feeling from before resurfaces in his chest. It’s not jealousy. And Markus is so in-touch with his emotions, but this emotion he feels can't be what he thinks it is.

He images the two of them, Markus and Connor, welcoming him back to his hotel room now, with open arms and soft hair Markus wants to run his fingers through.

He must just be confused. He  _is_ confused.

“I’m not jealous. They’re very happy together,” Markus says, and he says it as sincerely as he can manage, but something tells him the reporter is going to keep pushing anyway.

Before he has a chance, Connor is coming forward, getting between Markus and the microphone, “we really must begin the event. Please save further questions for the end.” Markus has never heard Connor say anything so sweet.

“Oh, oh but wait!” The reporter is surging forward anyway, “tell us what happened to North, Markus!”

And that has caught even Connor’s attention. He turns to Markus, eyebrows furrowed.

“Is North alright?”

“Fine! She’s fine!” Markus responds, perhaps a bit louder than he needs to, hands held up defensively. “Perfectly fine. She’s… moved to live with her girlfriend. Connor, you remember Kara? The woman with the short hair and the young girl?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize—”

“She left you! Women can be such heartbreakers, can’t they? How are you holding up after the break-up?” Markus feels like he’s being interrogated more than he is being interviewed.

“No more questions, thank you,” Connor, now thankfully focused on the task at hand once more, puts a hand on Markus’s back and guides him away from the reporters. The feeling of his palm pressing against him through the layers of Markus’s clothing has him shivering with something Markus doesn’t want to name.

* * *

“I’m sorry to pry about North,” Connor says later as Markus hammers a nail into a large plank of wood.

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” Markus responds, trying to ignore the cameras flashing in his face. It's a wonderous thing he cannot feel heat, otherwise he's sure he'd be sweating under the combination of the bright lights and hot sun. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“You were under no obligation to, your business is private.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Markus says with a smile, “but I don’t have much in the way of privacy anymore. Being seen as a leader for androids everywhere has that effect.”

“And you’re going to be getting even less now that I’m here,” Connor smiles back, and Markus’s laughs. He resists mentioning how little he wants to keep private from Connor.

Instead he responds with a shrug, “you really don’t need to be here, Connor, I know you have work to do. We’re in public, and it’s the middle of the day. Who's going to try and assassinate me now?” Though even just the thought of Connor leaving is already filling Markus with disappointment.

Connor’s LED spins yellow for a moment, and in that moment Markus is terrified that he might have offended the other, realizes his words could have implied that Markus doesn’t _want_ Connor here, when nothing could be further from the truth. He opens his mouth to apologize and clarify his true meaning when Connor is speaking up again.

“I’ve just calculated seven different ways to kill you.”

“That is…” _kind of hot,_ “absolutely terrifying.”

“I know,” Connor agrees. “That’s why I’m here, to ensure none of those possibilities come to pass.”

“Did you factor in the fact that I’m armed?” Markus swings the hammer in his hand with a grin, only half-joking. He wasn’t built for combat but in his time as Jericho’s leader, fighting for the freedom of androids everywhere, he’s picked up quite a few skills, and is confident he could do something about any sort of assailant.

Connor doesn’t agree, “Make that eleven ways.”

Markus isn’t even quite sure how to respond to that, he simply stares at Connor, “you’re… serious?”

“Deadly.”

Markus laughs nervously, “uh, let’s change the subject, why don’t we?”

“Of course,” Connor nods, and relaxes a little. Something tells Markus that Connor was equally as upset hearing about all the possibilities for an assassination as Markus was, and the thought that Connor cared for him like that made Markus feel light. Although, maybe he shouldn’t look so deeply into Connor simply not wanting him dead. After all, they were friends.

Just friends. Connor had Nines.

“So, you and Nines, huh?” Markus manages to keep his voice light and teasing, but his heart is hammering in his chest louder than the tools all around him. It’s entirely masochistic for him to be asking after Nines, and yet Markus can’t help himself. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping to hear, doesn’t think there’s _anything_ he’d hear that would make him feel better about the situation.

“Oh, yes!” And Connor looks so dreamy at the thought of his _boyfriend_ , Markus gets a bad taste in his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to walk in on us kissing—Nines just grabbed me out of nowhere.”

“Did he?” Markus almost cringes at the tone of his voice, so disinterested and passive-aggressive, but Connor doesn’t seem to notice.

“He was acting so strangely all day,” Connor sighs. “I… should apologize for his behavior, I told him to do it himself but something tells me he hasn’t.”

“He hasn’t,” Markus confirms. Connor sighs again, louder this time.

“I can’t seem to deduct what’s gotten into him,” Connor shrugs. “He just…”

“Doesn’t like me?” Markus finishes for him, and this time Connor flinches at Markus’s words, filled with such upset, and perhaps a bit too much anger. 

Markus is no stranger to being disliked, he has more than his fair share of enemies, evident from the fact that someone just tried to _kill_ him only the other day, and yet to be on the receiving end of Nines’ hatred… it rubs Markus the wrong way, leaves him feeling achy and makes him long for something he still refuses to place. If he gives it a name, that makes it real.

“That’s not it!” Connor is quick to reassure, but Markus knows his words are empty. “Nines is just a little antisocial, give him some time and he’ll warm up to you.”

 _That_ is an idea Markus likes—Nines warming up to him sounds lovely. And he means that, loves the thought of Nines smiling at him like he smiled at Connor, giving him friendly pats on the shoulder, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him in for a kiss of his own—

Markus slams his hammer down on the nail when the thought hits him, as if he’s trying to destroy it through physical means. The wood beneath the nail splinters and cracks with a loud _snap_ , and Markus stares down at his handiwork unblinking.

What the fuck.

“Careful, Markus!” Connor is by his side in an instant, plucking the hammer from Markus’s hand, and Markus doesn’t fail to notice the tingling sensation running up his arm when Connor’s fingers brush against his skin. “You’re going to kill yourself before any assassin does.”

It’s meant to be a joke but Markus can’t find it in himself to laugh, wrapped up as he is in his own thoughts. The jealousy, the longing… Markus knows he has feelings for Connor, has for a long time now, but it isn’t possible…

He doesn’t, he _can’t_ have feelings for Nines.

“I’m fine, Connor,” Markus finally cracks a smile after what must have been an uncomfortable period of time, and Connor is giving him a quizzical look. Markus isn’t sure if it was because of the awkward period of silence, or because Markus just hammered a hole into the wood for seemingly no reason. Probably both.

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting strangely.”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re not upset with how Nines was treating you, are you? Because I can assure you, he just needs some time.”

“I promise I’m not upset about Nines,” Markus lies. “Can I have my hammer back now?”

Connor looks at the hammer still in his hand, turning it over as he considers whether or not Markus can be trusted with it, and eventually relents.

“Let me get you a new plank,” Connor offers, glancing down at the one Markus had been working on, end now nearly falling off.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Markus shakes his head. “I think I need a break.” The cameras and heat must be getting to him, impossible as it is. That’s the only reason he’d be thinking such strange thoughts.

Connor nods his agreement, and then he’s leading Markus to a shady area in the back of the construction site. A few humans on their breaks are milling about here, but for the most part, it’s quiet, and separate from the hustle around the foundation and base structure of the house.

“Is this better?” Connor asks, and he looks so perfect, face illuminated by the sun as it shines through the leaves of a nearby tree. Markus’s hands twitch with the desire to hold his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses.

“Much,” Markus turns his head away and sits down on a makeshift bench composed of a neat pile of wood planks, set aside for later use when the need arose. Despite his better judgement, he turns to Connor again, tries to focus on anything but how beautiful he looks, and pats the empty space on the “bench” beside him.

“Are you going to sit?”

Connor stares down at the place Markus pats, and after a moment shakes his head, “I had better not. I need to be ready, should anything happen.”

“Oh come on,” Markus teases. “You need a break too, I’m sure.”

“I don’t require breaks. That’s why I assigned myself to this position in the first place.”

“Mm, you’re no fun.”

“This isn’t suppose to be fun. Your life is at stake!”

“The only thing at stake right now,” Markus moves over further, giving Connor even more space should he decide to sit, “is the hardware in my knees.”

Connor laughs at that, and it sounds so airy and light despite it’s unnatural mechanical ring, and Markus finds himself addicted.

* * *

“Okay, fine,” Connor rolls his eyes and sits besides Markus, who immediately lights up as he does. Connor feels giddy at the sight of that, how excited Markus is to have the two of them doing something so simple as sit together.

But it makes sense, doesn’t it? Both Connor and Markus are busy beyond belief, Markus travelling all over the country giving speeches and Connor staying up late into the night to uncover explanations for uncountable cases. They haven’t seen one another in ages it seems, beyond quick greetings when Markus stops by the station, as he occasionally does. It’s nice to finally have actual time together like this, even if the only reason they managed to secure it was because Markus was nearly shot.

The thought of Markus getting hurt makes something deep and dark twist inside of Connor. He can’t let something like that happen again, can’t let Markus’s life be at risk. He shouldn’t be sitting here with Markus, should be patrolling the borders of the construction site, running background checks on all the volunteers and reporters, but—

Connor turns to Markus, takes in his profile as he stares up at the sky through the leaves above them. He can’t find it in himself to do anything but sit here with him, bask in the warmth of the sun and of Markus’s closeness.

The feeling is… almost concerning. Connor tries to not give it much thought.

“So,” Markus speaks up, not looking away from the clouds as they roll by. “How did you and Nines start, uh… dating?”

Connor finds the question odd. Markus seems strangely interested in his and Nines’ relationship, but Connor supposes he cannot judge him. Connor himself was very interested to hear what had happened between Markus and North.

They had broken up. Connor had no idea, and he knows he should feel badly for Markus. From what he knows about break-ups—which is admittedly not much, only what he gathers from the gossip of the officers back at the station and from the TV shows he watches with Hank—they aren’t particularly enjoyable, and can be awfully emotional and detrimental to the mental state of those involved.  

Markus doesn’t seem particularly disturbed by the break-up with North however. He had almost seemed happy for North and how her life was going. Maybe that’s why Connor almost felt… excited at the prospect of Markus being single. That had to be it, that and the fact that being single often had positive connotations, also learned from the gossip about the office—being single meant going out and having hookups with cute people. Connor wondered if Markus was interested in hookups.

He hoped he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure why.

“Hank tells me the story is particularly uncomfortable,” Connor says truthfully. Very few people know about Connor and Nines’ relationship, so never before had he been asked how they started dating, but Hank had told him once that should anyone ask, Connor should just make something up. Connor didn’t want to lie to Markus, though.

“That so?” Markus laughed, and it sounded… off, “go ahead and tell me anyway, I can take it.”

“Really, I’m not sure if it’s the kind of story you’d like to hear.” Why did Markus want to hear it so badly anyway? Though honestly, Connor wasn’t sure if Markus _did_ want to hear it, he sounded so uncomfortable, wasn’t meeting Connor’s eyes every time Nines came up.

“Consider it payback for you prying about North,” he teases, and Connor sputters in response.

“You said it was okay!”

“Changed my mind,” Markus laughs again, but this time it sounds sincere, and Connor feels himself relax into the noise. “Really, I’m just curio—”

“We had sex in the bathroom at work,” Connor blurts out all at once. “And then several more times that night on my desk. Though really, I didn’t even know for sure we were dating until later, when Nines and I were at a crime scene and...”

Connor goes on, and on, and on. He can hardly stop himself, he loves the story so much, and between Nines and him trying to keep their relationship secret from their coworkers—Hank’s idea, according to him management might start keeping too close of an eye on them to ensure they were acting professionally despite their relationship, and considering how _unprofessional_ they could get in places like the break room and hidden amongst the lockers, they both decided it’d be for the best to keep things quiet to keep the risk of being discovered to a minimum (it should be noted that neither simply suggested _not_ having sex around the office, the thought never even crossed Connor’s mind)—and Hank’s disinterest in hearing about all the sex Connor had, he rarely had a chance to tell it.

So Connor tells him everything: About the time Nines got stabbed and Connor realized just how much he cared for him, about the first time they connected in the way only androids could, about every single time Nines had told Connor he loved him, everything.

“And then just the other day—” Connor turns to Markus. He had been so involved in his story he had hardly given him any thought, hadn’t even considered how it might be making his listener feel.

His knee-jerk reaction is to think the expression on Markus’s face is disgust. Humans can be so strange about sex, and Markus is so human, it naturally follows that he’d be strange about sex too.

But a second of analyzing reveals that there are no traces of disgust on Markus’s face. His lips aren’t pulled back into a sneer, he’s not reeling back from Connor… Instead he almost looks distant, like Connor’s story makes him miss something.

Then it hits Connor. Of course.

“Oh!” He reaches forward and puts what he hopes is a comforting hand on Markus’s shoulder, mimicking what Hank has done to him so many times, “I-I’m sorry Markus, I didn’t think… The break-up with North is still pretty recent, isn’t it? I’m sure you’re still dealing with a great many emotions.”

“What?” Markus’s strange expression turns confused for a moment, before realization dawns. “Oh, oh! No I-... the break-up was totally mutual! No… no lingering feelings here!”

He’s lying, or at least stressing about his response. Connor’s UI tells him as much after he scans Markus.

To know Markus is still hung up on North leaves Connor feeling… upset, negative in a way he can’t quite pinpoint. But of course that makes sense, he obviously wouldn’t want his friend to be going through this. But it’d make more sense if Connor felt worried, sad, even angry for Markus, not…

Not…

Connor stops to think. Not whatever emotion he’s feeling. What emotion is it? It feels like it’s burning in Connor’s throat, almost like anger but with more… longing?

Markus is a very powerful man, Connor decides, with the ability to make androids feel new and strange emotions. He makes Connor feel _human_. Sort of like how Nines makes him feel.

And that's when Connor realizes, all the ways his chest swelled at the sight of Markus, how excited he was to spend time with him, how much he wanted to lean in and be not only physically but emotionally closer to Markus… it all parallels exactly how he feels about Nines.

But Connor can’t be in love with Markus, can he? He loves Nines, more than anything, so…

So it must just be friendship. Love between friends was certainly not a new concept, though Connor always imagined the differences between romantic and platonic love would be a little more striking. But what would he know? He’s so new to all this after all.

Connor files the thought process away for later. He can talk to Markus about it once the threat of assassination has dwindled and Connor is no longer serving as his bodyguard, when they both have a bit of time. He’s sure Markus will have the answers he wants.

For now, he has a friend— _friend_ —in need of his help.

“Physical activity is a very healthy way of dealing with negative emotions,” Connor says as he stands up. This is what Markus needs, a healthy outlet for his feelings. Though exercise doesn’t trigger the same reaction in androids as it would in humans, it’s the best idea Connor has at the moment.

“Perhaps we should get back to work?” He offers his hand out to Markus to help him stand back up, and Markus smiles up at him and takes it. Connor almost audibly gasps at the wondrous sensation that runs up his arm, originating at where Markus’s fingers wrap around his palm.

“We have been on break for a while now,” Markus agrees as he pulls himself back to his full height.

With that, the two of them head back into the thick of things, with Connor two steps behind Markus at all times. He keeps an eye on Markus’s back firmly, refusing to look away even for a second to ensure nothing dangerous can hurt him.

Markus’s back is awful toned for a health-care android, Connor notes.

Though he _was_ designed by Elijah himself, and knowing Elijah, it should come to Connor as no surprise to see a few unnecessary cosmetic features.

Still, Connor just… notes Markus’s strong appearance.

Just notes it.

* * *

The day passes uneventfully, up until it’s time for Markus and Connor to head back to Jericho. They’re swarmed by the reporters once again as soon as they’re stepping off the construction site.

Connor feels badly, it _is_ partially his fault, telling them all that Markus would be available to answer questions after the event, but Markus doesn’t seem as overwhelmed by the questions as he was earlier.

From what Connor can hear, the majority of questions being asked are sensible ones, about Markus’s hopes and plans for the future and concerns about Markus’s well being after the assassination attempt. Connor imagines that the reporters who had been here solely for gossip had grown bored and left long ago.

Indeed, they had been here for quite some time now. Human volunteers had come and gone in regular intervals as their needs overtook their ability to work, but Connor and Markus, as well as the several android volunteers, had managed to stay the full six hours.

It’s 5:32 now, according to Connor’s internal clock. Hank and Nines had likely been home for a few minutes now. Connor knows he shouldn’t worry for them—Hank is very much a grown man capable of taking care of himself, even if he has hit a few rough patches, and with Nines there to help with anything he might need, everything should go perfectly smoothly. But he wants to be with them anyway, finds himself missing them terribly.

He looks up to Markus, who is laughing with one of the reporters. Seeing him helps lessen the ache a small bit.

It takes another long chunk of time, but eventually even the press has cleared out, leaving Markus and Connor free to clear out themselves.

“I understand if you want to go home,” Markus told him in the taxi. “I doubt anyone would be brave enough to attack me while I’m in Jericho.”

“Brave, no,” Connor shakes his head, “but stupid? Markus, these men will stop at nothing if they think they can bring you down. I don’t want to take any risks.”

“But you miss Nines, I’m sure,” he points out, and again Connor notices something strange about his tone.

“It’s not like I can’t call him,” Connor says back. “And I’m positive this problem will be resolved before we know it. I want you to stay safe, Markus.”

Something new flickers in Markus’s mismatched eyes, and he gives a wordless smile and nod in response.

The rest of the ride to Jericho is silent, the both of them a little too worn out to even think of making small talk. But the silence is comfortable, Connor imagines that if he were human, he’d fall asleep in it, and likely tip over onto Markus’s shoulder.

That’s something friends did, isn’t it?

They remain silent even as they leave the taxi and head up the steps towards the large church. It is in the middle of being renovated, scaffoldings line the walls and large holes in the roof are surrounded by tools. The progress is slow going, funded entirely by what’s left over from donations after the majority of the money goes to other relevant causes. Markus had said once that, seeing as only a handful of androids still stay here, most having moved into their own houses or into larger android shelters, the living conditions didn’t need to be perfect. Connor worries he’ll impossibly catch a cold anyway.

Markus stays in a large office in the back. The room is clean but cozy, filled with neatly organized files and papers laid out on the desk, a soft-looking couch, and various repair tools and excess wires on a small table in the center. The only messy part is a single corner with an easel, the wall around it hidden behind paintings stacked upon paintings and the floor hidden under rolled-up canvases. There’s a single small table beside the easel with only a palette, a few paint brushes, and a few empty dishes atop it. The table itself is covered in more paint than all the canvases combined.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Connor says as he steps close to the small studio. The canvas on the easel currently is an unfinished painting Connor can’t quite make out, but he admires it anyway, traces over the pencil markings with his fingertips until he hits the edge of the paint.

“Not as busy with that as I’d like, but yes, very busy,” Markus laughs and looks over his painting behind Connor.

“I’d love to see you work sometime,” Connor says. He can only imagine Markus’s process, but the visions in his head look so wonderful, so animated and carefree.

“I’d love to have you,” Markus replies, and then he’s sputtering, “N-not like—…! Uh—!”

“What?”  

“Nothing!”

“Markus, are you alright?” Connor turns to face Markus, who is coughing into his fist now and facing the other way. Connor stands and turns away from the painting, and goes to rest a hand on Markus’s back.

“I’d love to have you… watch me work, is all!” Markus is still, pointedly, not facing Connor. In fact he flinches under Connor’s hand and hurries towards his desk, leaving Connor standing by himself awkwardly near the paintings.

What was… what was Markus going on about? Connor wants to move closer and assure that his friend is okay, but Markus is hunched over his desk now, as closed off from Connor as he can be while the two of them remain in the same room. He’s scribbling furiously at something, but from this angle, Connor can’t tell what.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Connor says with a soft sigh, before sitting himself on the couch and beginning the process of going over the information he had stored about the anti-android group.

There isn’t much, unfortunately. They’re hardly even a “group,” just a bunch of violent humans who want to do something about their unfortunate situations, and who think androids are the cause for all the wrong in the world. Their actions are random and seemingly unconnected, their locations are scattered all over Detroit. The only thing the majority of them have in common is a background of violence.

Connor looks back over to Markus, who… Connor runs a quick analysis on the way the pencil he’s holding moves across the paper. Markus isn’t writing anything, instead he’s…

“You’re drawing?” Connor leans over on the couch to try and get a better look, but Markus moves the paper out of sight before he has a chance. Strange, Markus has never been one to be shy about his artwork before. Even when he truly struggled with a painting, thought it looked awful, had horrible composition, or strange color choices, he would never hide it away.

“Y-yeah! It’s nothing, just—… ideas.”

“May I see?”

“..."

Markus looks from Connor back to the small sketch he had just pushed to the opposite side of his desk. He stares at it for a long moment, and though Connor can calculate a dozen different possibilities, he cannot possibly determine for sure what’s on his mind. He’s debating with himself about whether or not to show Connor his sketch, of course, but why? What was on it that was so secretive, so… embarrassing? Was Markus embarrassed?

“It’s, uh…” finally Markus breaks the silence a few moments later, slowly sliding the picture back into view, “it’s just…”

Connor reaches over and takes the paper from the desk, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise when he sees it.

“I’d just… love to draw you, sometime. If you’d like.”

The sketch is of him. Connor calculates a 76% accuracy between the sketch and how he looks in real life. Markus is an android, and perfectly capable of recreating Connor on paper perfectly, but Connor finds the imperfections more beautiful than the idea of a life-like drawing.

In the picture, he’s smiling, and his smile looks so much more human than it does in real life, but it makes Connor feel warm to think that this is how Markus sees his smile. The picture is only a bust, but the details in his face are stunning. Markus has meticulously drawn in everything with his imperfect accuracy, from the way Connor’s hair curls over his forehead to the dimple in his chin.

Does Markus really have all these details about Connor’s face tucked away in his memory? Connor smiles at the thought, thirium pump beating harder.

...but of course he would. Markus is an _android_ , he has the processing power to allow for all these details and an infinite amount of others. Why _wouldn’t_ he have Connor’s face perfectly memorized? Connor shouldn’t be overthinking these things. The smile falters.

“It’s beautiful, Markus,” Connor says. “You’ve just drawn me, though.” 

“I mean a full portrait, not just a quick sketch,” Markus takes the sketch back and examines it. After a moment, he puts it down on the desk, erases a line of Connor’s jaw, and redraws it. Connor notes that the drawing increases in accuracy by 1.2%.

“Your journey into deviancy was just so… amazing,” Markus says, almost reverently, and Connor goes warm at his words. “Even if it was planned by CyberLife. I think… I’d just love to capture it, is all.”

“How could I say ‘no’ to that?” Connor replies, and it’s supposed to sound teasing, but instead he almost sounds bashful, and it doesn't help that he's now smiling down at his hands. It's strange how Markus’s words trigger something in Connor’s chest, a feeling that leaks into his veins and flows through his entire body. It’s the sort of feeling he gets when he has his arms wrapped around Nines, the both of them sprawled out on Hank’s couch after a long day at work.

How are humans supposed to differentiate friendship and romance when they both feel so similar?

But the thought gives Connor an idea.

“You should draw Nines, too!”

“Nines?”

“My boyfriend, yes! His ascent into deviancy was very similar to mine, and I’m sure he’d love—” Connor cuts himself off suddenly, realization burning in his throat.

What was he thinking, asking Markus to paint Nines alongside him when everytime the other was brought up, Markus would grow distant and visibly upset? Each time Connor mentioned Nines, Markus is reminded of his relationship with North. And to go so far as to _paint_ Connor and Nines together, to see them together for  what could be hours on end, how could Connor expect Markus to go through that?

Connor looks up back to Markus to apologize, but the expression on Markus’s face wasn’t one of lonliness. If Connor didn’t know any better, he might have thought Markus was—

“Yes! That’d be amazing!”

—inspired.

Before Connor can say another word, Markus is jumping straight up from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process, and rushing across the room towards his easel, face positively glowing with excitement. He tosses the half-finished painting aside, throwing it haphazardly into a pile, and grabs a blank canvas. It’s set upon the easel and Markus adjusts it, centering it as if he intends to start the painting right this instant with only half of his subject prepared. Even then, to imply Connor is fully prepared is being generous.

“You should contact him soon!” Markus is saying, turning back to Connor once the canvas is set up to his liking.

“Why do I get the feeling that by ‘soon,’ you mean ‘now?’” Connor smiles, worry replaced by that same warmth. It was amazing to see Markus jumping about like he was, and the fact that it was caused by an overwhelming desire to paint Connor and his boyfriend… it was an amazing feeling, to say the least.

“You _are_ one of the best detectives Detroit has,” Markus replies with a bright smile of his own, and Connor laughs. This feels nice.

“It’s a bit early yet,” Connor says. His internal clock tells him it’s only 8:43 at night, Hank would certainly still be awake and he’s hoping Nines is spending time with him. Connor can’t bring himself to want to separate them, even if the thought of being a model with Nines makes him feel giddy beyond measure.

“I’ll contact him later tonight about it,” he promises in the end, and if the look on Markus’s face is anything to go by, Markus is more than okay with that.

“Perfect,” he responds, and then he’s sinking onto the couch beside Connor, reclining back against the cushions in a way Connor always struggled with. “In the meantime, then, I suppose we can just relax.”

Connor does his own personal best to recline as well, and likely ends up looking awkward. He doesn’t care, and Markus certainly doesn’t judge him for it. Despite how uncomfortable his position probably looks, he’s more relaxed than he has been all day.

* * *

It feels so wonderful to spend time together like this, without the pressure of an important case or daunting speech hanging over them, forcing their time together to come to an abrupt end when one of them simply must get back to work.

Connor talks about all the cases he’s been assigned: the murders, the robberies, the assaults, all android related. He talks about Hank and Sumo and how well they’ve been doing, and about Markus, all the speeches Connor had seen on TV and heard about in the news.

Markus reciprocates by talking about his own duties: charity events, press conferences, important meetings… it was all enough to make Connor’s head spin, but Markus didn’t seem bothered by his busy schedule in the slightest. The way he talked about his back-to-back plans and running around almost made it seem like it was the most enjoyable thing in the world.

“It’s not easy,” he had said sometime between 11:00 and 11:30, after Connor had stopped checking his internal clock, “but nothing could be more rewarding.”

Connor was left awestruck with it all, amazed with how Markus could keep up. But Markus seemed equally amazed with Connor’s work, shocked he could walk around gruesome crime scenes and deal with criminals lying through their teeth day in and day out.

“I can’t imagine criminals lie more often than the politicians you work with.”

Markus thought that was _hilarious_ , and his twinkling laugh make Connor’s thirium pump soar.

Seconds melted into minutes, and minutes into hours, and eventually it was so late at night that it was early, and their conversations relaxed into a gentle silence. Connor found himself overcome with the urge to lay his head on Markus’s inviting lap and close his eyes.

_ >Connor, love, are you there? _

The voice in Connor’s head startled him, and he perked up with an excited “oh!” It was Nines! Connor was overjoyed to hear his voice—he had only been gone for little over half a day now but he had grown to miss Nines so much, to hear him was beyond cathartic.

But… something seemed wrong. Though the messaging system always left something to be desired when it came to translating the tone of the other’s voice, the emotion behind it, Connor could clearly hear that Nines sounded… tense. Nervous?

_ <Yes, I’m here, Nines. Is something the matter? _

“What is it?” Markus sat up a little straighter himself at Connor’s outburst, eyebrow cocked in curiosity.

“Nines is messaging me,” Connor replied simply.

_ >I love you. _

Connor’s thirium pump tightened both with joy—he loved hearing those words come from Nines’ lips, loved it more and more each time he said, it no matter how often—and worry, because what kind of response was that?   

_ <I love you too—Nines are you okay? _

There was a break in the instant back-and-forth for a moment, and Markus filled the silence in Connor’s head with his own voice.

“Is something the matter?”

“I’m not sure,” Connor mused. “Nines seems a little worried about something.”

_ >There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. _

“He says he needs to discuss something,” Connor tells Markus, who nods silently in response. And though he's worried, Connor wants to mention...

_ <Ironic you should say that, I have something I’d like to talk about as well._

_ >You first. _

“Do you think now would be an okay time to ask him about the paint—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Markus is surging up and taking a tight hold of his arm, “yes, now would be perfect! Is he on his way?” And again, before Connor can say anything, Markus is jumping from the couch back over to his small studio.

Connor smiles wide as he sends the next message.

_ <Markus was hoping to have us model together for his next painting. He seems very excited about it. _

Nines’ response is immediate, so much so that Connor wonders for a split-second if Nines knew what he was going to say before he finished saying it.

_ >Wonderful. I’m on my way. _

_ <What, now? What about what you wanted to discuss? _

_ >We’ll talk when I’m there. Love you. _

And that leaves Connor reeling. Nines sounded like he was in such a hurry to come over here, but that didn’t make any sense.

Just yesterday Nines _hated_ Markus, glared at him like he was the scum of the earth, refused to apologize for his behavior… and now he was _rushing_ to come and model for him?

Or maybe he was rushing to discuss whatever it is he had on his mind with Connor, but that didn’t make much sense either. Why hurry over to Jericho when he could simply talk with Connor about it through the messaging system?

Though Connor supposed there was no sense looking a gift-horse in the mouth. He loves the thought of seeing Nines so soon after his shift as Markus’s bodyguard had begun, he had been half-worried it’d be awhile before either would have the chance. And besides…

Connor watched as Markus gathered up tubes of paint long since squeezed flat and rolled up. Did they have any paint at all left inside them? They must have had enough, because Markus places them on the small table beside the easel, ready for use.

...it’s nice to see Markus so excited about this.

_ <Love you too. I’ll see you soon. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now then, a fun totally unrelated poll that I am doing for fun look at how fun this unrelated irrelevant poll is:  
> https://www.strawpoll.me/16513696

**Author's Note:**

> OHOHOH HERE IT IS!!! I love both of these ships so much and I'm so hype to be working on a fic including them both! 
> 
> I suppose I should include a disclaimer: I am not nor have I ever been in a polyamorous relationship. This fic is fueled entirely by my desire to see Connor in love with both Markus and Nines. As a result, it's likely not at all an accurate depiction of polyamory!


End file.
